I Need To Think
by TheSnackingScholar
Summary: One-shot. Basically, Will's death under the simulation, told from his perspective.


**Disclaimer: One day, I will take over the world, steal Divergent from Veronica Roth, and bring Will back to life. Until then, I own nothing.**

* * *

I run, my fingers wrapped tightly around the gun in my hands. Several yards ahead of me is an alley, and in the alley is a person. I know there is. There is a person there, a person I have to kill.

I am not thinking. I can't think. I don't know why I'm doing this, or where I am, or even who I am. I only know that I have to find them, and I have to kill them. Kill them all. Anyone who is not like me.

I know that there are people here who are not like me, not like _us_. And I know who they are, how to spot them. But I have no idea how I know this, and a tiny, far-off part of me is bothered by this. That part of me has a need to_ know_, to _understand_. To find and process as much information as possible. And suddenly I am grabbing onto that one tiny part of myself, holding to it as tightly as possible. And then it isn't tiny anymore, it's growing, becoming a real part of me, and then I stop running.

I stand still, still holding my gun out, because I still I have to find them, I still have to kill them. But now, somehow, that isn't the _only _thing I have to do. I have to figure myself out. I have to know. I have to know who I am.

As I stand there, the word _Erudite_ surfaces somewhere in my mind.

I don't know what it means, but I know it's important. It forms a part of my identity. There's something terribly significant about this word.

_Erudite_.

Then there's another word. _Dauntless._

This one, too, is significant. And something about it scares me. It feels sharper, less familiar than the other word.

I hear a gunshot from near the alley, and it reminds me of what I need to do. I need to find whoever is in that alley, and I need to shoot them and kill them. I begin running again, and then, again, I stop. There's another word—but not just a word. A name.

_Tris._

Is that the name of the person in the alley?

And while I'm standing there, more words—more names—begin to surface.

_Cara._

_Al._

_Peter._

_Molly._

_Eric._

And one more. It feels more familiar than the rest, as though I have known it for a very long time.

_Will_.

That's my name, isn't it? It must be. It has to be.

Then I hear footsteps, and I begin running again. I have to kill them. I have to kill them all.

I reach the alley, and I stop running and put my gun up, because, as I knew before, there is a person there. A girl. She is not like me, and I am going to kill her.

I slide my finger over the trigger of the gun and squeeze it, but not hard enough to fire. Looking at the girl, I feel as though I know her. As though I should not kill her after all.

Then there's that name again. _Tris_.

I know that name. And I know that girl.

_No_. I can't kill her. I know her. She is—was?—my friend. I won't kill her.

I take my finger from the trigger. But it's too late.

I hear a bang, and suddenly I'm being overwhelmed by searing, white-hot pain. I fall backwards, hitting the ground hard, and I can't breathe, can't think, can only lie there, trying to grab onto any sort of thought. I can't die like this, not thinking or feeling, not knowing who I am. I have to _know_ something. I have to _think_.

Then I manage to grab onto something. One of the names from before.

_Will_.

That _is _my name. I'm sure of it now.

_My name is Will_.

Then a number_._

_Sixteen_.

My age.

Then there's one more name, one I didn't manage to grasp before.

_Christina._

It's accompanied by an image—a tall, dark-skinned, beautiful girl, smiling at me. I have a distinct feeling of knowing her well, of being very close to her.

I am in love with this girl.

_My name is Will_, I think desperately._ I am sixteen years old. I am Erudite. I am also Dauntless. I don't know what either of those words mean, but I know that I am both of them. I am in love with a girl named Christina._

I am satisfied now. I was able to think something, and that's all I needed.

And now everything fades out, and there is nothing.

I am nothing.


End file.
